The Demon's Wife
by WhatisWithin
Summary: "Do not speak." The women had said, gesturing wildly while the soldiers waited for her to dress herself. "Do not speak, if you do, he will take your voice," they had whispered while painting henna on her wrists, "and you have such a beautiful voice." Their words rang in her head as she faced her new, masked master. One word, and her voice was gone. She would not speak.
1. Chapter 1

There was no greater honor for the shah to bestow upon a favored servant than the gift of a harem virgin... the gift of a wife.

She was beautiful, almost unearthly so even as she sat unceremoniously on the tiled floor, surly the shah would have wanted her deeply for himself. I wondered how the khanum had convinced the sultan to give up such a girl, or whether he had made the noble sacrifice of his own violation.

Her eyes, large and brown, jumped to Kahn, to the two guards that escorted them, to the lush garden that surrounded us.

Anywhere but myself.

She seemed to be pleading with them, perhaps to be taken away, as if this was all some farce of a joke, or to be put to death. I did not know.

"What is your name?" I winced, gentle as I had tried to make it, my voice came out strained and harsh. My hands gripping the glass so tightly I half believed it would break in my hands.

Her eyes snapped back to me, she swallowed and looked to the floor.

"Come." To my relief, my voice sounded gentler. "You need not fear me I-" I leaned foreword, no longer able to refuse the vision before me, I reached to touch her cheek. "One night is all..." At one touch, she flinched and jerked away. My hand backed away equally quickly, cursing myself for not restraining my self, for not being _patient_.

She looked so young...

"One night." I forced my voice to soften, to comfort her. "One night, and you will live in splendor for the rest of your life. One night will buy you a life of pleasure." I took the glass and swallowed what was left of the wine inside.

She drew a long shuddering breath, and jerked her head upwards.

"One night." I repeated, fingering the empty glass. "One night is all I ask and perhaps... the night will..." I choked. "Will not be so terrible as it might seem."

And she stared, examined me, darting from the mask to the glass in my hand, finally settling in my eyes. Her eye's sharpened, and her mouth set in a grim line.

She held out her hand.

I stared at it, not quite comprehending what it meant, what it said...

I set my glass on the table, it's clink piercing the room as well as a scream would have. Kahn flinched, as did his escorts. Even I winced at the sound.

Somewhere in a tree a bird twittered.

Only the girl remained unchanged, her hand still outstretched, palm upwards waiting patiently. I stared, and took her hand with my own, pulling her from the floor where she sat and towards me.

I have never thought much about the size of my hands, yet as I took hers, I marveled at how large mine were compared to hers, how delicate they were. Mine swallowed hers as I assisted her from the tile from which she sat.

She was small, barely as tall as my torso I towered over her. I could have snapped her in half.

She was so small...

"Leave." I snapped at kahn, not taking my eyes from her.

She stared at me bravely as their feet scuffed and tapped the tile with their boots.

As soon as her escort's steps disappeared, something in her snapped. She drew a long shuddering breath, her head dropped, her hands clenched. She looked up again, face pale, tears streaming from her eyes. Now she now was ready to endure what came to her.

She was mine to take.

I took a step foreword, reaching out, I stroked one of the dark locks of her hair from her face.

She was trained for this.

My hand cupped her cheek, she inhaled sharply but did not pull away, almost of it's own accord my thumb stroked her smooth, beautiful cheek. Her eyes squeezed shut. A tear rolled down her cheek.

She was only a slave.

My finger froze, and for the first time the implications of what I was doing hit me. I spun from her, clutching the hand that had touched her face.

Only a _slave..._

"Go." I ordered, letting the power of it fill the room, that strange power that forced others to obey my whim. I raised a trembling hand to the house in the garden. "Mine. Go. I will come soon enough-no! No. Stay, eat, sleep- forget what I said. There will be no price for your comfort."

I heard a deep sigh, as if the tension within her had been released. Soft steps echoing quickly from the tile as she left me.

I collapsed, gasping and wishing for anything to calm the heat inside me.

* * *

"Do not speak." The women had said, gesturing wildly while the soldiers waited for her to dress.

"Do not speak, if you do, he will take your voice," they had whispered while painting henna on her wrists, "and you have such a beautiful voice."

They were kind to her, trying to help her as best they could.

When she had first come, they had all hated her, known she would be the shah's favorite. They had all envied and hated her.

They all scurried around her, pity in their eyes.

None envied her now.

Instead, they were as gentle as possible. Giving her comfort and soft words. The earrings she wore were the favorite's of the harem. They painted her designs, she no longer had to struggle to paint the very hardest spots. She wore the finest, softest silks that had once been selfishly kept from her.

They whispered advice to her, advice they had receded before that they now gave freely. How to position yourself, what it's like the first time, how to please him.

But above all, they whispered to her, above them all_. "Do not speak." _

It will protect you, he will take your voice otherwise, that angel of death, that demon.

And she believed them. Believed in the demon she was being sent to, believed that she would die a most painful and gruesome death.

And yet, she saw him, hunched over as if in pain. There will be no price. He had promised, and she had watched him. For the first time, she began to doubt.

She ran, afraid of her doubt, afraid that her fears would come to kill her after she let them go from her heart. She ran to the house that was his, and went inside.

She seemed unable to stop, she ran up a flight of stairs, ran until she found a balcony. She looked over the garden, saw him still on the ground, and climbed.

She gripped the carvings and clambered up to the roof, sitting down on the burning tile and forcing herself to stare at the sky. She ignored the pain on her legs and hands and instead schooled herself. Where would be the stars tonight? She asked herself. Where next month? She lost herself in the astrology that had always been so familiar to her.

And she sat, and feared, and shivered.

What would her fate be, with this monster that cowered on the ground?


	2. Chapter 2

**A few clarifications: No this is not Christine. :( She's a native Persian girl. In Susan Kay's Phantom (A book written ****thirty**** or so years ago detailing Erik's life.) There is a part where Erik in Persia get offered a slave girl. He offers her one night in exchange for a life of ****luxury****, but his demonic reputation (And the slave girl's belief in them.) causes her to refuse. As a punishment, she is killed despite Erik's best efforts. This book is a "what if" scenario, if she had chosen to go with him.**

**Second, thanks for all the reminders about the weird chapter. I saw them yesterday but completely forgot about it until more reviews started streaming in. Hopefully it works this time!**

**Let me know if there's anything I can do to prevent it from happening, for now, I'll try to check every chapter before and after I post it.**

She was not in the house.

She was not in the house, nor in the garden, nor in the small shed where supposedly gardener's had kept their tools till I had come.

It wasn't until I looked up at the edge of the garden and saw in on the roof when I realized where she had gone.

The roof?

How on earth had she gotten up there?

After reaching the balcony, I realized if I dug my shoes into a few intricate designs, I could hoist himself up high enough to grasp the roof. The moment I tried to do so I hissed in pain and dropped back to the floor.

"Come down." I said. "I know you're up there."

Her head peaked over the ridge, staring at me, but not obeying.

"For heavens sakes I won't touch you, just come down." I snapped. "I do not have time for your antics."

She stared some more, then cautiously scooted down the roof till she dropped on the balcony as for from me as possible.

Her hands were red, a bright glistening red.

I almost forgot my promise, I stepped forward, ready to examine her wounds. She stubbled back against the terris, her face growing white. Her eyes squeezed shut as she let out a whimper.

I froze, cursing myself.

"Your hands are burned." I said gently. "They will need to be tended to."

She looked away, down at the red palms of her hard, she seemed surprised.

"Stay off the roof." I told her. "I won't have you hurt."

She shrugged. I blinked, and she was gone.

I looked into the house to see her running across the room, down the stairs and out of my sight. I gritted my teeth and followed.

I found her in the kitchen, the pump releasing a small trickle of water, she ran her hands under it.

Quickly I left the room and went into my office, there I snatched up a jar and went back to the kitchen.

"Here." I said roughly, holding out the jar. "This cream will help, after you run it with water."

Her head snapped towards me, then looked at the jar, she pressed her pretty lips and looked back at her burns under the water.

She did not come.

After a few more minutes I gripped the jar and set it on a nearby table, I pushed it towards her, then took several steps back.

She hadn't noticed, she had been staring so intently at her hands.

With a sigh, and slumped shoulders, I left the room.

* * *

They hurt, the burns, they hurt. The jar seemed so tempting, she had heard of his great medicines.

She forced herself to leave it on the table, even as she ran the water and kept the tears from falling from her eyes.

She wished for her mother, for her fierce scoldings at her climbing the roof again, her gentle hands applying yogurt to the burns. She longed for her father, for his strong hands carrying her to her room, for his kiss against her forehead.

And she was crying, sobbing over the pump. Crying for what was gone, tears falling for what she had once known. She ached to run back to the memories, back to what she had known so well.

She gritted her teeth and shut off the water, those memories, those people, that was all in flames now. Grasping the edge of her sleeve she wiped her eyes, turned to leave, and froze.

There he was, staring at her in the doorway, she was trapped. She turned away, not sure what to do next. What did he want?

"Can you talk?" He asked bluntly.

_Do not speak._

She set her teeth, and shook her head vigorously.

"From birth?" He stepped a little farther into the kitchen.

She shook her head again.

"I..." He hesitated. "May I see, your burns?" He asked.

It was a mistake, to glance at him, to see if he was sincere. He looked so innocent, his eyes so pleading.

He was clever, this demon, so clever. She had always had a weak heart.

A demon, she reminded herself.

A demon who, not an hour ago, had come so close to taking her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she felt his waiting eyes on her.

She ran.

Dodging round him she rushed out, ready to climb on that hot roof again, to escape from the his spells and his deceptions

A cold hand grasped her arm.

Fear jolted through her body like an spark from rubbing wools together, she screamed, pushing him away. She tripped over a small table and fell on her injured hands with all the weight of her body.

She burst into tears again while he stared. It was too much, too much!

"I'm sorry." He stumbled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." His hands gripped each other, one reached out to touch her but pulled away. "Please forgive me." He begged.

She stood, turning away from his pleading eyes.

"You were going so fast... I only wanted to know your name..."

Oh his voice! So beautiful, so painful, so raw. Half of her wanted to crawl to him, comfort him, do whatever it took to make the voice happy. The other wanted to lay on the ground and bask in it's beauty. She clapped her hands over her ears, shaking her head violently. He stopped speaking. She breathed ragged breaths, waiting in fear.

What would he do now?

Through the barrier of her hands, she heard him step back and run from the room into the garden. She glanced behind her, and for a moment, saw him lifting his mask to brush something away as he ran out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

It is strange, living with someone that that is terrified of you. It is similar to simply have those who fear you, yet the constant interaction is exhausting.

From what I could tell of the few times I caught her sleeping, she slept on the various chairs and couches around the house. Any offer of a bed was ignored at first.

It was a struggle to get her to eat anything, after failing multiple times to prepare the food for her, he simply informed her at mealtimes that he was going out for a few hours. She would then prepare it herself, leaving the dishes neatly washed and drying.

I knew not where she had learned to cook, every attempt at conversation with her to discover where ended in her running away, usually to the roof. Her hands were almost always burned, I saw her wince in pain every time they moved, still she would not accept my help.

She trusted me once, and only once. It was when I brought her clothes. She wore them, preferring it to the thing they had brought her in, the scraps of cloth that didn't deserve to be called clothing.

Clothing was made to cover the body, hers... hadn't. I doubted she wanted to father tempt the demon she had been given to.

When I was in a room, she would leave. If she couldn't leave, she would look away, cowering in the farthest corners of the room. If I tried to speak to her, she would pale and edge to the nearest door, if I tried to touch her she would scream and run.

It only worsened after I came to the house coated in blood.

It had been an accident, only a week after she arrived, I had been so tired after a long day of entertaining... I thought I would wash at in the privacy of my home.

Her screams, her fear... she didn't come down from the roof for two days. Her delicate hands blistered and broke, and still she refused my help.

I wished to set her at ease, I was exhausted of this game of attempted soothing, only to have her pull away.

I couldn't help but think that we were equally stubborn, I, always trying to help her, she, always refusing.

Then again, could fear really be counted as stubbornness?

And yet, I remember on that first day, how she had shrieked at my touch. How I foolishly had tried to stop her.

I wondered why she was mute, what injury or sickness would allow her to scream and yet still not speak?

Or perhaps she just wouldn't, perhaps she was simply too afraid to.

* * *

Blood.

He had come to his home coated in blood.

He had shouted pleading apologies to her on the roof, begging forgiveness, pleading for her to come down, to heal her hands, to lavish her in jewels, houses, fine elephants, servants, the rarest of foods.

She sat stubbornly on the roof, clasped her hands over her ears and waited for his pleas to end. Her heart ached with the beautiful pain he brought, but she did not trust it. It took all her strength to resist.

He had called to her until his voice was hoarse, it took six hours. Six hours of torture, of her heart wanting to go to him, six hours of resisting that beautiful voice. He promised her many things with that voice, so many that she lost count.

His voice scared her. It curled into her weak heart and begged, it took all her strength to resist.

After she finally came down he was quieter around her, he stopped trying to strike up conversation, stopped offering her help with her hands.

It was both a relief and a comfort. She even believed her avoided the rooms she enjoyed the most, he worked longer hours, leaving early and coming late.

And so she was left alone for a greater part of the day.

She took to exploring the garden and the house, he kept many animals, all injured, he tended to them every morning and night. She liked looking at them, birds, hedgehogs, and foxes, they were friendly to her, accepting her affection and food, she wondered where they had learned such trust.

She would dig up worms, insects and small pieces of raw meat for all of them, most would even eat out of her hands.

There was a bird, a long legged buzzard, she believed, that was her favorite. It's wing was carefully set by her master, slowly healing. The bird seemed to like her. It would nudge her hand, looking for the treats she sometimes brought. Sometimes she even took it out of it's cage, carrying it on her arm. (She was always careful to wear long thick sleeves.) She would walk out to the garden, it would lift it's head into the breeze, it's eyes closing as it did so. Perhaps it imagined that it could fly away, just like she sometimes wished.

She loved watching it, it was so graceful, almost angelic in it's design.

The library was her favorite place to be in the house, it was full of windows, the bright lights filling the room. There were books in nearly every language, in every topic she could imagine. It was very impressive really, she would run her hands along them, taking down ones that seemed interesting and sitting to read.

He usually returned after sunset, long before then, the book would be carefully replaced, and she would be in the room he had given her after The Day of Blood. (As she called it in her mind.)

It was a beautiful room, he had given her a bed with the softest of silks, there was a table with paper and pencils and pens. A balcony looked over the garden with heavy curtains to close them if she wished.

After stocking the room, he never entered it, to the best of her knowledge. Sometimes he would lay a gift by the door. More paper, jewelry or a new piece of clothing.

The paper she placed in her desk, the clothing stored in her closet, the jewelry carefully placed in the back of the closet, never to see the light of day again. She rarely wore the new pieces he brought her.

And so life continued, for several weeks. She, rarely seeing him, he doing his best to avoid her.

And then the day where everything changed.


	4. Chapter 4

Foolish, foolish, foolish! The thought raced through my mind, Nadir a heavy weight on my shoulder.

Foolish! I should have seen the attack coming, now my arm hung limply at my side even as I supported Nadir with my other.

Even more foolish, I carried him to my own home, to the place where my little farce of a wife waited. It was only mid day, the sun beat down on both of us, I wondered if she'd run away yet. Some part of me knew it would happen eventually. Perhaps she would sell the jewelry I had given her. If she sold all of it, it would be enough to support her for some time.

I stumbled, pulling Nadir through my door, into my home. His was farther from here, and in my own domain, I had the means to help him.

As I stepped into the first courtyard, I saw her curious little head peek around the corner. Her eye's widened as she saw the snapped arrow in Nadir's side.

"Please." I called to her. "Set a pot of water boiling."

She crept out a little more, stared at my bleeding companion. Suddenly she darted across the room to the other side, toward the direction of the kitchen.

I situated Nadir in my office, carefully unwinding the bandages I had hurriedly made from my cloak. I gave him something to numb the pain, then ran down to fetch the boiling water.

It wasn't done yet, but she was carefully adding more wood to the fire, two topped pots, one larger, one smaller, sat on the stove.

She glanced uneasily at me as I came in, but continued adding wood, soon she snapped the stove shut. Standing, she stood back and sat at the nearest chair, watching the stove.

"Thank you."

Her shoulder's shrugged lightly.

I left, returning to Nadir, collecting supplies.

How could I have been so stupid, I should have seen it, the man we had been chasing had been far to clever for his own good.

To make matter's worse, he had escaped, and Nadir would not be able to return to court for weeks.

And if he lost the Shah's favor...

I began examining the wound more carefully, the arrow had missed any organs, however if there was an infection. It almost looked as if...

A small knock filled the room, I spun, and saw her holding the smaller pot. Steam rose from it's edges. She glanced around the room, shuffling from foot to foot.

"Here." I gestured to the tiled floor next to me. She stepped forward and set the pot down gently. She moved backward, her dark eyes stared at the broken arrow in his side.

"I apologize for bringing him here. I did not trust any other location nearby."

Her head turned to me, she met my eyes for a moment. Then she shrugged again and left the room.

I turned back to Nadir, taking a closer look at the wound. Suddenly I saw exactly what I feared.

I cursed in every language I knew how to.

Poison. There had been poison on the arrow.

* * *

She heard him screaming in several languages and froze in the hallway, she had never seen him angry, not yet. She nearly dropped the second pot she had prepared as she recognized the word poison.

She walked a little faster, her stomach clenching as she heard the boiling hot water in the pot slosh up the sides.

More cursing.

She pushed open the door with the steaming pot, watching him bend over the man.

The kind man, the one who had forced the soldiers to wait for her to dress in proper clothing, the one who had looked sorry for her. Who had smiled kindly at her as she had cried as they had walked to her husband's house. Who had offered her a handkerchief and forced the soldiers to stop while she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

The arrow in his side had been broken at the end, his mouth was closed and twisted into an expression of pain. His eyes squeezed shut and sweat dripped from his forehead.

She set the pot next to Erik, he was furiously searching through several different glass vials on his desk, occasionally setting one aside, she tapped his shoulder gently.

His head snapped to hers, his hand caught her wrist as his eyes flashed. "What?" He hissed, then immediately freed her wrist.

"I'm sorry." He breathed. "I'm so so- please, forgive me I-"

She held up a hand, his plea stopped.

She pointed to the steaming pot next to the first, smaller one. He stared at it for a moment, his shoulders fell. "Ah, I see. Thank you."

Slowly she back away from him, leaning against the wall, watching as he continued his work.

After a few moments he took a stone bowl and stone and began crushing a few dried leaves with a skill that made her suspect he had done this a thousand times. Dimly she wondered When he had turned them to dust he dropped them into the small pot she had brought him.

His hands moved quicker and quicker, grinding, mixing and grinding again. She knew what he was doing, saw it before her very eyes, saw his hands moving. But it was memorizing, a magic in itself.

And suddenly they stopped, he stared at the concoction he had made in that smaller container. His finger dipped inside and he tasted what he had made. He nodded in approval.

He carefully poured some into a glass, and leaned over the man he had brought and shook his shoulder.

The man groaned and held his side. She watched her husband gently coax him into drinking the antidote. Slowly the mixture disappeared into the man on the floor. When if was all gone, she saw him relax, and then quickly turned to the arrow wound.

He stood and began gathering a few more things, metal instruments, cloths, and another one of his vials. Carefully he laid these out beside him, along the still heated pot.

He paused, and turned to look at her. "Do- do you intend to help, or do you wish to go?" He asked. "This will be bloody."

She stared at him, at the man who lay groaning on the ground, the man who had been so kind to her.

She sat next to the supplies he had laid out, pointing her finger at the wound.

"He was shot while we were chasing a man convicted with murdering one of the Shah's many Nephew's." Erik told her. "The arrow was poisoned."

She nodded.

"The best you can do is hand me tools and cloths to clean the wound with, and bandages afterward." He gestured to a stack of cloths next to him, beside the cloths he had carefully laid out

She nodded again.

"Are you sure you won't faint? I can't help you now if you faint."

She shrugged and gave him a small smile.

He sighed.

"Very well, let us begin. I'll start with the smallest cutting knife right there."

Her eyes scanned over the metal tools he had brought, he had laid out three or four knives together of various sizes, she selected the smallest and handed it to him.

He reached out to take it, their fingers brushed for a moment. She felt her lips tighten, but did not pull back.

With the knife in hand, he looked at it, then her.

"Thank you." He said quietly, and turned to begin his work.


	5. Chapter 5

It took over an hour to slowly ease the arrow out of his body.

Afterwards we both struggled to stem the blood flow, finally bandaging it. Nadir woke one during the process, I stopped to give him a tincture to set to sleep once again.

My wife... my little wife. Her face had paled at the sight of my cutting into my skin, but she had stubbornly stayed, handing me tools, fetching various things from around the room. Even to go boil another pot of water. Always, she returned, always, she insisted on helping.

She did not seem afraid of me then, there was a truce between us I suppose, she would not fear me and I would allow her to help.

After the entire operation was done, Nadir laid on a couch, and the supplies cleaned, she slipped away into her room. The truce was over.

I wandered the house, tended to the animals, played my violin for a time.

After several more hours, I heard a groan from Nadir and I walked to his side. He opened his eyes and look at me wearily.

"Did we catch him?"

"There was a spot of trouble, an injury, I believe, of a crucial member of the chase."

"Oh well, I'm sorry." Nadir raised an eyebrow. "So sorry I inconvenienced you. Now did we catch him or not?"

"No."

He pushed himself up, his face grimacing. "You didn't? Really Erik, we almost had him, why didn't you just leave me there?"

"If I had, you would be dead."

"Yes, well, you've never been particularly worried about that."

I rolled my eyes, sitting into the nearest chair. "Perhaps I shouldn't have been, the next Chief of Police might not be so _vexing_."

"Yes, and you would have caught our fellow too." Nadir slumped back on the couch. "How long was I out?"

"Before we patched you up, or after?"

"Well, before."

"Eight hours."

Nadir cursed. "He must be in the countryside by now, we'll never catch him there."

"I think you forget who you are speaking to."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I forgot I was in the presence of _greatness_."

"Quite."

He glared at me, I allowed myself to let a corner of my mouth to twitch upward, knowing it would infuriate him. "I don't care how good you are Erik, he's going to be constantly on the move now, we'll never catch up with him."

I opened my mouth to deny his accusation, but stopped when I saw his eyes focus on something behind me. I stood and turned, surprised to see _her_.

She wore a different tunic now, a emerald one that matched her caramel skin. She was staring at Nadir and I, a small smile playing at her lips.

It was the first time I had ever seen her smile, it transformed her beauty from tragic and cold to warm and carefree. Her eyes sparkled as she watched us, I moved forward.

"Do you-"

The smile vanished, she turned from the room, soon I could hear her feet flying down the stairs.

I sighed, falling back into me chair.

"Goodness, what were you going to say?" Nadir grinned. "She looked terrified."

"I was going to as her if she need anything. "I snapped. "That's hardly something to be frightend about."

"How's married life?"

My hands gripped the arms in my chair. "I haven't the faintest idea." I gritted my teeth. "I would rather not discuss it."

His smile vanished as well, looking away he said carefully. "Where do you think he'll go next?"

"I'm not sure." I replied, keeping my tone cool. "There are several places, and I'm sure there are more we don't know about. Of course," I added, "He could be leaving the country."

Nadir groaned. "I hope not, if we don't find him Erik-"

"We'll manage." I told him.

His hand came down on the wood of the chair. "Not everyone has so many jobs they can fall back on. Not everyone has the Shah's left ear cocked to them at all times. I can't take any more blows to my position in court." His hand ran through his hair. "I've got to catch him Erik, I don't have any other option."

"If you're in so much danger why don't you just leave?" I told him, waving a hand listlessly. "Reza is gone, what else is there keeping you here?"

"This is my homeland Erik, I've got to stay." Nadir told me. "But I suppose you wouldn't understand, wandering from place to place."

* * *

They seemed good friends, the two of them, teasing one another like her brother's used to. She was glad she had helped, it seemed that this man would be healed.

She stood in the kitchen, leaning against the table. She pushed herself away and began making tea.

The only tea her husband seemed to like was a strong Russian tea that made her eyes water, but she enjoyed it well enough with large amounts of cream and sugar.

While the water boiled she cooked some rice and a sauce, going down to the cellar to fetch fish to go with it.

After finishing her meal, she began to slip back into her own room, but stopped when she saw the blood on the floor.

The man had made quite the mess on his way in, she gathered what cleaning supplies she could, found the beginning on the blood and began scrubbing.

_He_ found her there, a few hours later, halfway up the stairs, scrubbing with sore arms. He stood on the step right above where she scrubbed, shuffling himself from foot to foot, she knew by now that meant he was nervous, unsure how to handle the situation, but not yet desperate enough to fall to his knees and beg.

"I can-"

She looked up to stare at him, and he faltered, she gestured for his leg to move. He obeyed, she began scrubbing the blood that had been underneath.

"Are you... very well." He sighed, going back up the stairs.

Her heart beat quite fast after that encounter, she thought of the hours they had spent together, of the way he had looked at her and thanked her so very gently.

She thought of the dedication he had had, not resting until his friend was comfortable. Of how he had stopped to fetch and heal Nadir, even when it meant their enemy had escaped.

She thought of how they had teased each other, of how _normal _her husband had seemed while they talked. Not like a demon at all, not like a beggar on the ground, but a man.

And when he had seen her, something in her had melted as she watched, his mouth had gone slack as he saw her, his eyes softening.

It wasn't lust, by Allah, she had seen lust enough to recognize it. It was softer, more pure, it had made her heart soften, made a fond feeling for him blossom in her. After those two hours of tending to his friend, after watching them tease each other, she had come so close to speaking.

Then he had stepped foreword, and the spell was broken, thank Allah.

She moved up a step, starting at the next stain of blood with renewed strength.

Oh he was a clever demon, there were no lengths he'd not go to to open her heart, her voice, and her body.

Her teeth clenched as she scrapped away a stubborn drop.

And once she did finally give in, well, she supposed, she wouldn't have long to live.


	6. Chapter 6

Her eyes burned into the back of my neck as I packed the saddle bag, I turned to look at her.

Instead of taking a step back, or running away, she continued to stare. I met her eyes and she finally looked away.

"I'm going to the market." I told her.

She nodded and took a cautious step foreword, the morning sun lighting her features as she left the shade of the courtyard.

"I will be gone for several hours."

Another step.

"Do you have an objection?" I asked irritably.

She looked at me, then pointed to herself, then to the horse.

"You want to come?"

She nodded.

"I'm afraid I can't-" I stopped, reconsidering. Why couldn't she come? I couldn't expect her to stay in the house forever.

"Do you want another horse?"

She nodded, then held up a finger and ran into the house.

I began preparing her horse while she was inside, when she came out, she wore simpler clothing. A veil covered her face, she saw the horse and mounted it with an ease that surprised me. She sat tall, pointing the horse towards the gate.

We rode down the road together, she staring at the beautiful scenery, and I staring at her. Her eyes were so bright, no doubt she was smiling broadly under that veil. I cursed myself for keeping her coped up so long in that house. I promised myself to take her out more often.

When we arrived, I stopped us at the edge of the confusion. I handed her a small pouch, she hesitated, then took it. She opened it and looked inside, her eyes widened.

"We can visit wherever you like after I make a few stops. You may purchase whatever you wish"

She nodded and tucked it away, we both pushed into the crowd.

I never should have let her out of my sight. That cheat of a stall keeper wouldn't lower his price, I haggled for nearly half an hour with him before finally he was down to a suitable price. I forgot about her for a moment, in the heat of the argument.

When I turned to go, only my horse was there to greet me. She was gone.

My first thought that someone had captured her, after all, her horse was a fine one, and I had had no restraint showing my wealth with my dress, even if she had. I spent most of the morning frantically searching for her.

Then I remembered her fear of me, and the money I had given her. Suppose she had run. I had half hoped she would take the opportunity.

I searched the market just in case till nearly sundown, it would not do to leave her in the hand of captors.

By the time I returned home I was convinced she had absconded with the money, I could hardly blame her. There were few who wouldn't take the opportunity.

I rode through the gate, sliding off my horse to lead him into the stable. He huffed, searching his feed box for a meal. As I gave him his meal, I heard another horse whinny.

I turned.

The horse I had given her whinnied in it's stall, as if expecting it's meal too.

* * *

He was not infallible. She had been able to escape from him while he had shouted at the stubborn vendor. She had slipped away into the crowd while guiding her horse.

She had expected him to catch her, to make her stop and punish her for trying to leave. He should have known, should have caught her.

He had not, he did not notice.

She sat on her bed, pondering this revelation, staring out of her window to the garden outside.

A demon would have noticed. Was he human then? It was odd to think about. She still did not trust him in the least, men in general could not be trusted. Perhaps he had let her go to make her think she was free. But she hadn't been running away, she had only wanted to go on her own.

A knock filled the room, she slid off her bed and walked to the door to open it.

He looked so surprised when she opened it that she forced herself to choke down her a laugh.

"You- you came back."

The urge to laugh died. He hadn't expected her to come back. Why did he look so happy at her return.

Perhaps he was a weaker demon, unsure that he could have caught her again.

She held up a finger to him and turned and snatched the pouch he had given her off her desk, he held out his hand to take it. His eyes bore into hers.

"Your horse, you curried and unsaddled and fed him." The bag disappeared in his pocket.

She nodded.

He stared some more, once again he had that gentleness, that feeling that she did not dare name.

"Thank you." He whispered. "Thank you for staying..."

She slammed the door shut in his masked face. She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.

He was a demon, a weaker demon perhaps, but he was not to be trusted, she heard his footsteps fade as he went Allah knew where.

That demon who would steal her voice if she let him.

She remembered her mother's voice, it had been beautiful, silvery and ethereal.

Her father had missed her so, she remembered the tears he had cried after her death, remembered how he had shut himself away, how he had starved and neglected himself. Only she had been allowed in, to sing.

He had called for her often after her mother's death, to hear her sing, had hired tutor's for her so that she might improve.

She still remembered his withered and bony hands taking her own after one song, how his sunken brown eyes had stared intently into hers.

"My sweet child." He told her. "You have your mother's voice, you must never waste it, you must always treasure it. It will help you through the hardest paths in your life."

She shook away the memory and gritted her teeth, digging her fingers in her scalp. She would not waste her voice on some demon who wanted her for his prey.

How she missed her mother, how she missed her father and brothers. How she wished to be _home_, to be with them once more.

But there was no home anymore, only places in this dark and cruel world that she had been thrust into.

Slowly she rose and walked to her desk, she carefully opened the bottom drawer where she had hidden it.

It was bright, and black. In a way, it was beautiful. It seemed a shame that it was meant to end lives. She didn't really want to touch it.

But he had enemies, and he would not always be there to protect her. She remembered clearly her father's gentle instructions to her brothers, teaching them to care for the weapon.

If he was away and she was attacked, well, she would have to be ready.


	7. Chapter 7

She is a fickle woman, my little wife. She is hiding something from me. I had returned in midday once, to gather a few supplies I needed, I found her running across the courtyard, gasping for breath and sweating. Her clothing stuck to her skin, drops rolling from her face, she froze when she saw me. I asked her what the matter was, she had glared at me, and turned to run up the stairs to her room.

She seemed different since our visit to the market. She was more confident, she easily crossed rooms with me in them now. Her lips still turned downward when I asked her questions, but it seemed more out of annoyance than anything.

It was better than fear, it was better than screams and her coming down the the roof with blistered and broken hands.

Still, I could not help but feel that she was hiding something. The way she so forwardly hated me, something had caused the change in her, and I knew not what.

I hardly had the time to wonder, I was often gone for days at a time, scouring the countryside.

_He_ had to be found, every spare moment I had I reported to Nadir, who had an apartment in the palace now. He visited his villa as often as I did now.

He would listen to my report, Darius in the corner scribbling I said. He would offer his own suggestions, we would discuss, and then I would leave.

Nadir was still recovering, he had been taken to his apartment two days after he had received the wound. He now lay, recovering, trying to maintain his standing in court from bed. I didn't suggest he get up for two weeks.

The Shah had recalled me from my usual court entertainments, telling me to focus all my efforts on catching _him._

_He_ had been an enforcer in court, quite useful and the Shah had been almost as dedicated to him as I. Then the Shah had found that he had been having an affair with one of the concubines. Ordinarily this would have been punished with death, but he had done enough services that he had been forgiven. Of course the poor concubine hadn't been so lucky, but then, of course, she had only been a concubine.

Only a year later, he had attempted to kill the Shah, he was then cast in prison. To be slowly and painfully tortured to death.

He had vanished, and now he was on the run. He had been known in the court as Vahid, he had been in the court much longer than I, and was almost as feared as I was.

I suppose he hated me, after all, I had all but taken his place. Once, he had been the court's favorite, though the most feared. I had taken both places, he was now the replacement, the one who was called when the preferred entertainer had other things to do.

Still, he was good enough to hide from me. The longer I searched for him, the more I was convinced that he had left the county.

My poor little wife, many would say I neglected her though I took her out shopping twice more in three months. I was gone for days at a time. Each time, she disappeared as soon as I turned my head, by the time I returned home, she was waiting there. She _seemed_ perfectly content. I think she read quite the amount while I was away. I almost always found her in the library if I did return.

The animal's room she quite liked as well, she fed them while I was away. It was a sort of unspoken agreement between us. The animals had grown to trust her as they did me.

Once, I returned after only half a day. I rode towards home I heard a gunshot ring through the air, my horse whinnied and shook her mane. I reached foreword to scratch her neck, whispering soothing words.

She nickered, and another shot filled the air.

My hands tightened on the reins, and I pulled her into a gallop, urging her faster and faster as the house drew into view.

Another shot. Outside the house, we rode along the outside walls.

Another shot. We pulled into the forest. I slowed my horse. My eyes wildly scanned the scenery.

A branch snapped behind us, I froze, turned us both around and saw her.

She looked rather shocked, clasped in both her hands was a black handgun. Her mouth opened and closed at the sight of me, her eyes wide.

I swung off my horse, not daring to move foreword.

"How long have you had such a thing?" I demanded.

Her face was so pale, it nearly matched my own skin. She shook her head and took a step back, she raised the gun and pointed it towards me, her mouth setting into a grim line. Her legs were shaking.

My horse whinnied nervously, stepping in place, I held up my hands and took a step back. "I'm not angry." I told her. "I'm apologize. You have a right to... I worry you'll hurt yourself."

Her eyes studied me for a moment, then they rolled to the heavens, her arms dropped to her sides. She looked around for a moment, then reached her arms up and shot.

I turned around to look at were she had shot, my hand on my horse, and I saw that she had shot straight through a single leaf on a dying branch of a tree.

"I see. And how long...?" An idea came to me. "Since the first time at the market?" She looked away, and nodded.

"You bought the gun."

Another nod.

I had said that she could purchase what she wanted, hadn't I? It had been almost two months since that trip, and she hadn't hurt herself yet.

"Have you been practicing shooting often? Daily, or near it?"

Nod.

"Do you know how to use it? Did somebody teach you?"

Nod.

"Very well." I patted my horses flank. "Just, please be careful." I said. "Thieves could come and try and take you, and I wouldn't know for days."

Her eyes stared intently at me as I walked away, after I disappeared into the trees I heard another shot ring.

I went into the courtyard, listening to the occasional shot as I brushed down my horse.

* * *

She watched his hands carefully readjust the bandage on the poor bird, it lay still, used to the treatment by now.

He finished tying the bandage, then carefully lifted the bird, handing it to her. The bird hopped from his arm to her's, on her arm lay a leather protector, she had found it outside her door today.

She stoked it's wing, it wasn't the prettiest of birds but it did have soft feathers. It coo'd quietly in response. It nipped at her other hand, she opened it to allow it it's treat.

She felt his eyes on her as she fed the bird, he should have been moving on the next animal. She looked at him firmly, he turned away to the next cage.

He was gone so much lately, the most being four days in a row so far. The return had been so unexpected... It wasn't often that he was able to take care of the animals anymore. She knew he cared for them, they seemed to quite like him in return.

Sometimes, she allowed herself to think of his own thoughts and feelings. She knew her actions hurt him, her constant glaring and denying him her approval. She knew that he wanted her to like him.

He was so gentle with the animals, there was a small hedgehog in the cage, it was a new animal that had not learned to trust him yet. How carefully he lured it out of it's cage, with gentle words and touches. Soon, it was in his hands. It had a broken leg, he was checking that the splint still held.

She placed the bird back in it's cage, she picked up a small worm in a cup she had saved. When he was done, he handed the hedgehog to her, she took it, feeding it the treats she had brought.

She guessed that he wanted to help them as no one else would, once she had seen him with his shirtsleeves rolled up, the scars she had seen... if the rest of him was as bad, she couldn't imagine the pain he had been through. Perhaps he couldn't stand to see them in pain.

She wondered if he had always been alone in this cruel world.

She wondered if he really was a demon, if he really meant to steal her voice. She had done so many treacherous things, she had run from him, harmed him, refused him his right as her husband, read from his library without permission, even looked at his papers. Today had been the worst, perhaps. She had pointed a gun at him, gone behind his back to learn to defend herself.

Even now she shivered to think of it. Even now some small part of her expected him to turn to her with cold eyes and finally take what he was owed as her husband. She saw it in his eyes when he didn't think she was looking. She knew he thirsted for her.

Any one of the things she had done could have warranted her death, he could have had her locked up, whipped or even been sentenced long and tortuous death.

She knew he did such things to others regularly, one did not become the Shah's favorite without some bloodshed. She knew the things he did. The things that she had recited to herself when her heart was weak.

And still he had been, was, kind. He did not punish her. He had only wanted to be sure that she wouldn't hurt herself.

"Are you ready?"

She looked up to see him smiling gently at her, holding and stroking a cat gently. She took the cat from him, tucking it into her own lap. It stared at her, then jumped out of her lap and limped back to Erik's.

He ended up having to feed it its treat, it wouldn't stay on her lap.

She watched his hand gently stroke the cat, scratching it's favorite places while it purred.

And she wondered and thought why she had ever been so afraid of him that she would climb from a burning roof to avoid him.


	8. Chapter 8

Screams filled the air, perhaps they were my own. I was in too much pain to care. It started in my stomach, spreading slowly throughout myself until my entire being was pain.

There was a thumping that jolted me regularly. Was it my heart, or the beat of hoofs hitting the ground?

Things improved once the thumping stopped, I was supported as I staggered inside a building. I recognized my own home. Then blanched. I couldn't be here, and so weak... she would think poorly of me. I couldn't stay here.

Another bout of pain came and I forgot to care.

Another figure came under my arm, helping me stumble up the stairs. I murmured in protest, though I doubted they understood.

I was laid on something soft, soft and warm. A ruff voice not unlike Nadir's talked of sending for a doctor, the pounding of running boots.

But who was ill? Was it her, was it my little wife? I tried to rise, I had to care for her. Hands pushed me down. I grabbed them.

"Where is my wife?" I growled. "Is she ill?"

I heard only a sigh, a cold cloth was pressed against my forehead. I pulled away, grabbing the blurry wrist that held it.

"WHERE IS SHE?" I roared, shoving the hand back.

The figure stumbled backward. It stood by the fire burning nearby, it shifted from foot to foot. My eyes struggled to focus on the black silhouette of the figure.

"Please, is she hurt?"

A voice like a bell filled the room, my native language filling my ears. Blessed, blessed French, I realized I had been speaking in it all along. "She... she is safe."

I fell back on the soft surface. "Don't let her see me like this." I begged. "Please, I don't want to worry her."

"Don't worry." The voice said softly. I closed my eyes at it's beauty, letting my breath go.

A cool hand pressed against my forehead. My eyes flew open, I touched my bare face.

"My mask!" I leaped forward. "My mask, please, I need it-"

The figure pushed me down again. "Please, rest." It begged, I fell back down again, basking in it's voice.

"Please-" I whispered, ignoring another small twinge of pain inside. "I can't let her see... see my... she'll hate me forever..."

"You needn't worry."

I believed that beautiful voice, I closed my eyes once again. I heard the fire crackling, the sound of a cloth being dipped into a bowl again.

And then pain came again. I heard screaming again in my ears, hard tile hit against my hands. I hit it, was it causing this pain? I twisted, bile rising from my stomach, it left me, the smell was almost as bad as the pain...

Visions filled my eyes, my mother's eyes, Sasha lying on the couch, staining it's pattern red. Javert's cruel voice filled my ears, I felt the crack of his whip against my back. I cowered. I whimpered, begged.

A beautiful melody filled my ears, the visions melted away, I was on the floor once again. My hands struggled to push myself up, but slipped against the wet tiles.

A gentle hand touched my arm, I looked up.

I couldn't truly see her, only her silhouette, yet I knew it was an angel. Her voice filled my ears, she pulled me up against her, let me cry on her lap. When the song was finished, she stroked my hair, murmuring nonsensical things. I knew not what. She began to sing again.

Somehow I came to be on that soft bed again. The angel watched over me, singing, stroking my scalp. My hands were taken and cleaned gently. I grasped her hands and kissed them, calling her by her title.

The song stumbled at that, but I felt a kiss brushed against my forehead. "You will live, I swear it." She said.

I sobbed, clung to her like a child, still she sang to me, still she held and stroked me. Was I in heaven? What I had done to be there, I didn't know.

More voices filled the room. The Angel pulled away, I reached for her, but she was gone. The new voices seemed harsh, ugly, compared to the angel's. Something vile was forced down my throat, more hideous voices, I wished for the angel again.

There was a blur of sounds, my eyes couldn't seem to focus, I tried to ask for the angel, but only a moan came.

I laid there, crying for her, for the angel. The world was dark and harsh without her.

I know not how long I laid there. I only know that slowly things began to clear, that my mind seemed to be able to think again. Light streamed through the room, I rose, looking about the room.

Nadir lay on the hard floor, not far away. I glanced at him, he breathed slowly, and appeared to be asleep.

My ears pricked at the clink of china, my little wife stepped into the room. My hands flew to my face, then fell once they found the hard surface of my mask. She stared at me, scanning me up and down, and a small smile lifted from the corners of her mouth. She held the tray a little higher, giving me a questioning look.

"Yes please." I whispered to her. She nodded, crossing the room, carefully stepping over Nadir and set the tray on a nearby table. She poured the tea into two cups. She looked at me and pointed at the sugar.

"No sugar, no cream." I told her.

Another roll to the heavens, but she handed me my cup. In her own she added amble amounts of both sweetenings.

She sat in a chair facing the dying fire, her legs crossed in front of her, she took a small sip of tea.

"I'm sorry." I told her. "You must have been terribly distressed because of me."

She shrugged, and looked down at her tea.

"Your floors are terribly uncomfortable."

Both our heads snapped to Nadir, he had turned, and watched up both with an amused expression.

"I'm sorry for your discomfort." I snapped at him. "I will be sure to prepare the floors for your comfort during your next stay."

Nadir chuckled and sat up, stretching his back. He glanced at my wife. "Any more tea?"

He looked so much better now, though his eyes sometimes struggled to move. Twice, Nadir had to help him up to relieve himself. He was so ashamed that she would see him weak, that she should see him when he couldn't even stand by himself.

But that only meant he was human. He was human, she knew that now. Demons didn't scream for their loved ones when they were ill and weak with poison. Demons didn't beg for more songs while kissing your fingers. Demons didn't moan with pain and reach for you as you pulled away.

He was not a demon.

She knelt and leaned against the couch. He lay below her, head resting on a pillow conversing with Nadir. She wondered how much he remembered from the night before. He had been so deleterious, she hoped he remembered nothing.

Sweat still trickled down his forehead, she carefully wiped it off and dropped the cloth into a bowl next to her. He still spoke to his friend, they talked of who could have poisoned him, and why.

Something about a convicted criminal filled her ears and she listened closely.

"-the shah will have to be informed that I will be detained for the next week or so. But in the meantime, you must search the houses that we have discussed. If he is not in any of them, and there are no more leads he's left the country."

She turned and picked up the bowl and began to walk to the doorway.

"Too true. My standing in court is disintegrating as we speak. I rue the day I ever heard of Vahid. Devil of a man."

She dropped the bowl, jumping back as it smashed into pieces. Erik and Nadir tensed and turned to the sound, as if preparing for battle.

They both paused when they saw her, her hands were shaking. She tried to steady them, and failed.

Nadir took a step forward and smiled kindly. "Here- Darius."

The servant man ran in, his eyes widened at the sight of the smashed bowl.

"Clean this, will you?" He looked at her. "Go sleep, you've been up all night and I know it wasn't easy. Rest."

She glanced at Erik, who nodded in agreement, she dashed out of the room and down the hallway. She ran until she came to her own room, where she jumped into her bed, pulling the covers over her like a child.

_Vahid._

She felt a tear escape from her eye, and she pushed it away angrily.

Her still trembling hands pulled her pillow from the bed and held it to her chest. Her face pressed into the soft material, it soon grew wet as her shoulders shook and she struggled to keep her sobs silent.

_The flames heat tore at her skin as she watched her home burn. The tall man turned to watch her and ran a thumb over her cheek._

_"You are far too pretty to kill." He said. "I will take you to the harem to be trained, and then you will be my wife." _

_She had screamed in protest, had tried to run. __He snatched her cheeks and forced her to look into his eyes._

_"It is not your place to speak, do you hear? Now, the I'm sure the Shah will agree with me, and when you are done with your training, I assume you will act in a more womanly fashion."_

A sob escaped from her mouth, she swallowed the next one that came and hummed tune to herself while her fingers hopped to the different wet spots on the pillow.

The whispers of the harem echoed in her ears._ "Do not speak. He will steal your voice."_

She sighed heavily and looked out the window into the beautiful garden.

_"It is not your place to speak." Vahid's cruel, sparkling eyes stared at her._

_Her father's thin, wrinkled hand grasped hers. His wide, fevered eyes met hers. "You have your mother's voice, you must never waste it, you must always treasure it. It will help you through the hardest part of your life."_

"I must never waste my voice." She whispered to the empty room. "I must treasure it."

The room didn't answer back.

A scream suddenly filled the air, and a crash. Her head perked, and she heard Erik yell.

"I'll take care of them! Go to her!"

**Hey guys, sorry for not updating in a while. That's been in part because of NaNoWriMo. I had this chapter nearly done when it started and just finished it out. The next chapter probably won't come until December. (At literally the worst cliffhanger of the book, I know. It's crazy, that's always when the book ends. XD)**

**But I do intend to finish this book, and I think a month to map out the last part of the book will be very helpful. Thank to to all who are reading this, I really appreciate it!**

**See ya'll soon!**


	9. Chapter 9

One would think, after three years in Persia, that I would learn not to underestimate the desire for revenge of my enemies.

Nevertheless, there I was, laying on the ground, my eyes struggling to focus on the blade pressed against my throat.

I was far too weak to fight back. I had gained a burst of energy when they first came, but that had been five minutes ago. Apparently five minutes was enough to drain what I had so carefully been saving for the past day.

Vahid growled, and pressed his sword a little deeper in my throat. I felt the first spurt of blood. "Stop grinning." He snapped.

I could only hope that Nadir had reached her in time. The horses no doubt were exhausted after last nights run, but perhaps they would be rested enough to give them enough distance that-

"Stop it. When you grin like that I know you're planning something."

I starred blankly at him. "My dear sir, if I am to meet death, I insist that I meet it with dignity."

He snapped away, pulling away his sword and snapped a command at a few of his men. They ran forward to hold me down. Hardly necessary, I doubt I could have stood up, let alone attacked him.

"Where is she?" He asked, his back towards me. "I know the Shah gave her to you, where is she?"

"Far away from you." I said quietly. Now this was a puzzle, I knew he was angry with me, yes. But why did he want anything to do with her?

He turned, and his eyes narrowed. "I see that took that smirk off your face." He said. Ah, now I knew why he had mentioned her. I wondered how long they had been spying on the both of us. But he went on, walking grandly around the room.

I felt a drop of blood from the wound trickle down my throat.

"She was promised to me, you see. Not so long ago. She was to be trained, and then sent to me." He looked at me, and snarled. "And then I was betrayed, and she was sent to you." He stepped up to me, and kneeled, looking into my eyes. "She is beautiful, is she not? Have you enjoyed her pleasures?"

I stayed silent.

Vahid frowned. "Did not the Shah tell you? Tell you of her stained past? Her father betrayed the court, released some information or some other thing. I was sent to kill them all but the girl..." He smiled, his eyes remained cold. "Her beauty was known even then, skin like copper, eyes like emeralds. A voice more beautiful than a swans. She was promised to me in exchange for my services. But now she is with you."

So that was it. He had come to claim what was his, a beauty beyond all others.

We both turned our heads at the sound of shuffling in the hallway, then to my surprise, Nadir and my little wife! Oh my poor little wife was being held by her wrists and forced into the room. Her eyes stared at Vahid with more hate than they ever had at me.

Vahid's voice filled the room. "There you are, blemished, no doubt by this demon. But you will be pleasurable just the same."

She looked to me, and for a moment, fear traced her eyes.

Vahid stepped over me, then crossed the room quickly to her. He was tall, not as tall as I, but tall enough to loom over her slim frame.

I wished I had the strength to stop him. I wished I could have leapt from the floor and snapped his neck with my bare hands.

She looked at him, her mouth in a frown, firmly staring angrily into his eyes. He raised his hand, and she flinched, her gaze dropping to the ground.

I cursed him in my mind with every form and in every language I knew.

"I see you have learned much while I was away." He whispered. He made a motion and the man that held her dropped her arms. She stood there, her face expressionless as she looked at the tiled floor. Her arms clung to herself, her eyes squeezed shut and she began rocking on her feet.

"Are you afraid?" He whispered, and she nodded.

I hated him.

He raised his hand, to touch her where I knew not- but a bang filled the air and he froze, then stumbled backwards.

In her hands lay a gun. The gun!

Her eyes were fearful, but determined. She jumped away from her guard as he tried to take the gun, she shot his leg, he fell to the ground, clutching it.

Vahid was on the floor, clutching his stomach and cursing. The bullet had gone through his stomach and out the other side.

He swore at my little wife, the two men that held me down jumped up to attack, Vahid tried to call them back from their stupidity. She shot them both in quick succession. One groaned and hit the floor, not moving. The other fell slower, but stayed where he fell when she pointed her gun at him.

Nadir had already broken free from his guard, knocking him to the floor unconscious. Using the flat side of the sword, he knocked the still swearing Vahid and the few remaining guards unconscious.

He dropped the sword and starred at my wife. "Well, I wasn't expecting that." He said. "Did Erik teach you?"

She smiled, and shook her head. "No." She said quietly, her bell like voice filling the room. "My father did."

* * *

She supposed that she should have been checking for more men. Staging an attack with only four men seemed foolish, but as they searched the house, and the surrounding area, she and Nadir found nothing.

"Probably expected it to be an easy operation, an old man, a little girl, and a sick phantom." Nadir had commented as they climbed the stairs. "Probably expected it to be easy."

"Where is Darius?" She asked, her voice sounded soft and weak to herself. It had been so long since she has spoken to another.

"We sent him to fetch some medicine that Erik didn't have." Nadir sighed in frustration. "They probably waited until he was gone. It was foolish of me to assume it was safe..."

They entered the room where Erik lay on the couch again. His hands were tapping incessantly at the wooden couch. He tried to stand when he saw her, but she ran and pushed him down again.

"You must rest." She whispered. "Please."

He finally settled, and he looked at her with that strange, intense look. She thought for moment, and decided she liked it. She smiled at him.

She didn't want to see his reaction, suddenly feeling embarrassed at her daring. Nadir smiled, his eyebrow raised.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, both to Nadir and Erik.

"Not after a fight like that." Nadir gestured to the men they had tied up against the wall. With Erik's help they had fetched a concoction that would set them to sleep for the next several hours while they waited for Darous to return, whereupon they would be taken to jail for their crimes. They had bandaged the wounds as best they could, but she doubted that Vahid would make it to jail. "I won't be hungry until tomorrow night."

She glanced at Erik, he was still staring at her. "Why do you speak now?" He asked bluntly.

She laughed. "I suppose you're not hungry either, then?" She asked, sitting on the couch by his feet. "I was ready to prepare just about anything you know."

His golden eyes from behind the white mask stared blankly back at her. She sobered.

"I'm not afraid anymore." She finally said. "Not really. I... I'm sure this won't come as a surprise, but I thought you were a demon, in the beginning."

"And what changed your mind?" He asked gently.

"Last night." She said simply. In the corner of her vision, she saw Nadir glance uneasily at them both

He shifted, his hand settling on his chest. "You, you were the angel, then?" He said.

"Yes. Though I'm no angel, not really." She slid up the couch taking his hand, it was cold, and smooth like silk. She squeezed it, his fingers tightening with hers. "I only did what a proper wife should."

"Don't." He replied, his voice growing hoarse. "Don't say that, you did the best you could... especially considering..." His other hand reached up to gesture to his mask..

"I saw you without it, you know." She whispered. "It wasn't your face, it..." She leaned down, her eyes meeting his. "It was the rumors, the shah's wives told me. It was never your face. It was the myths, the legends, and the blood." She shuddered at the memory.

"I know you're not innocent in that aspect. I'm not stupid." She told him. "One does not become so high in court without bloodshed." She slid off the couch next to him, to Erik, her husband. She knelt on the cold floor, her face barely a hand span from his. "Maybe it would have been better if you had not come at all." She whispered.

His eyes... they darted over her, confused, frightened, surprised. His cool hand still holding hers as if his life depended on it. "I wish it." He whispered. "I wish I had never come, I was innocent, when I came. Now... his eyes closed and he shuddered. "Now I know I will never gain it back, I wish I had it. I'm so tired of it, the murder, the fear, the blood." He trailed off, his breathing slowing.

She sang a song to him, a lullaby that her mother had sung to her. He soon slept, exhausted from the poison, the fight, and his speaking with her. His hand still held hers, she slipped it free and stood.

He looked so frail now, so tired. He did not have the blood love of most, the lust that kept them crawling and climbing through the court. He had tried for so long, and was tired.

She thought rapidly as she left the room, and by the time she had reached the bottom of the stairs in the courtyard, she thought she knew a way he could escape.

**Heyo! Guess who's back! I thought I would never write this chapter (Read, the way I wanted it.) but I hit some inspiration, wrote the first nine hundred words and slowly chipped away at the rest. So hurray! 1-2 more chapters until the end. Merry Christmas/happy holidays, I guess. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

It was interesting, to watch her bustle around me, the little industrial thing she was. Bringing me drinks, books, even forcing bowls of hot soup down my throat.

"You must get well." She insisted. "You must."

So much seemed different, from the small smiles that touched at the edges of her lips, to the way her feet hit the stone as she ran to fetch whatever I wished.

Darius returned, he took away the men while I was unconscious. Nadir later told me they had been put before the shah, he had sentenced them all to death. Vahid died from blood loss on his way to his execution.

She seemed very protective of me, after the fight. Always near me, her eyes almost waiting for another attack. "You must get well." Was her cry every time I tried to rise from that couch, or refused to eat, or anything she deemed dangerous.

Once, I asked to write a letter to the shah. To explain my situation, and that I would be available for service soon again. When I asked for the paper, she looked up from the book she read and shook her head gently and went back to reading.

"Why ever not?" I asked. She had never done such a thing before.

She looked up again, her lips pursed and she said in that quiet way of hers- "You must not go back to the shah, if you are to be well." Her slim shoulders shrugged. "You will be attacked again, or poisoned again, and perhaps this time I will not be able to help. And you will die." She shook her head. "You must not go back."

I stiffened. "I cannot just leave the shah like that." I snapped. "I cannot just leave, I'm not stupid enough for that, the only excuse for leaving service is death."

She smiled gently at me. "Exactly." And returned to her book.

My mind spun. "So am I going to die then?" I asked sarcastically, then cursed myself. I did not want to frighten her again.

She heaved a heavy sigh, and gave me a stern look. I hardly knew where it came from. "Do you want to go back?" She asked.

I stared, what sort of question was that?

She closed her book and set it gently in her lap. "At this moment, the shah thinks you are very ill. According to his chief of police, you are fighting death itself, and are at it's door. He waits anxiously to see if you will live or not?" Her eyes fixed itself upon mine. "Do you want to go back?"

"I-" I halted, I suddenly imagined her in the bustled gowns of my homeland, how beautiful she would look, free and away from danger. How her eyes would sparkle! She was clever, she could learn french, she could be happy there. "Yes."

She nodded. "Then you must get well, as soon as you are well enough to leave, we will give the Shah the unfortunate news of your death." Her fingers slid to her place in the book, opening it and soon lost in it again.

I sat back against the couch, my mind racing.

No doubt Vahid's men had seen me before they had gone. But they had seen me asleep, weak from exhaustion, recovering from the poison. If Nadir and Darius had testified to my state, perhaps the shah believed them. And yet...

"What if he sends physicians?" I asked her.

She did not look up from her book. "You have a nurse." She assured me. "And there is so very little a doctor can do now, all we can do is wait." She smiled, and turned the page. "And so we wait."

* * *

He looked so very much like her father, during his last days, that it was very hard to keep smiling pleasantly as she knew she must. He must not worry, more worries would only delay his wellness.

Nadir, thank him, agreed very quickly that it was best that Erik leave the country. He had listened to her plan with quiet, intense eyes. He had agreed to it almost right away, making no adjustments whatsoever.

And so she set about tending to Erik as she once had to her father. Only now she hoped she would not hold his hand as he gave his last breath, she would not have to mourn his loss. Only to know that he would go on and on.

Within a week, he could stand unsteadily on his own for a time. A week after that, he denied any father help from her, insisting he could fetch anything he wanted himself now.

Nadir visited regularly, bringing the supplies for the escape. He and Erik planned the route he would take, she knew very little of it, only that he would go west for a time, to avoid any that might see him, then circle north and east, back to his homeland.

Three weeks after the attack, he was ready. She helped him pack all the little treasures he might sell along the way. His simplest clothes were packed, along with a single set of what he called his "Court clothes".

When they were almost finished, he asked her when she was going to pack if she spent all her time helping him.

She had frozen in the action of pulling out a heavy wool cloak and turned to her to look at him questioningly. "I don't understand."

He looked up from his bags. "When are you going to pack?"

Suddenly her heart felt tight, like grapes in a wine press. He thought she was going with him! Did he not see that the shah would be far too suspicious if she disappeared after his death?

She told him so, and his eyes hardened. He dropped the ties of his bag and the crossed the room. For a moment his fingers twitched at his sides, then leapt forward to take her hands away from his cloak that she had been fingering.

"In France, I can keep you safe." He told her. "In France you will have every pleasure the world has to offer."

She squeezed his hands, and then pulled away to give him the cloak to replace her hands. "I must not come, it is safest, if I do not."

His fingers gripped the cloth. "It matters not, I will not leave you here." He said, his golden eyes scanning her face. "Fetch your things my little wife, we leave in the morning."

Her heart dropped to her stomach, but she shook her head. "I mustn't come." She told him, even as he turned away. "I will be fine, I have always managed. I will survive."

He threw the cloak onto his bed, anger filling his eyes. Then he closed them, and the anger left him. "Please." He whispered. "There is so much you must see. You must not be trapped here as I was-"

"Nadir will look after me." She replied. "You needn't worry. It's not safe for me to come with you, I-" Her voice choked, and she smiled, and tried to recover yourself. "A face such as mine will not be easily forgotten. They could use me to fine you. It's too dangerous. It's best for me to stay here."

He knew she was right, she saw it in his eyes. And yet they filled with tears that would not go away.

"I will come for you." He said, his voice choking as hers had. "I will come back."

His promise still filled her heart late in the night, almost into the morning when he rode away. There was so much she wished she could have told him before he left, but she knew as he glanced back at her, that what they had had was enough.

She watched him leave, and when he disappeared into the trees, she watched it. Remembering the time he had come running into it to save her.

She watched it until the sun lit her tears, and then she turned inside to whatever fate that was before her.

_End_


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